I was sitting Indian style at the end of the dock, the water a black expanse out in front of me. I remember seeing my spine protruding from my back almost like a dorsal fin as I labored with a fishing pole and feeling that the hump was a bit unusual to look at from this angle. As I sat with my legs crossed, I could feel the slap of water on the supports of the dock as if my body was spliced into the aged lumber and I remember the sensation of toes digging deep into the soft Chesapeake mud. Thinking back on it now, I remember feeling as if I was the weather worn dock that had a great many stories to tell.
There was a soft wind from out in the bay that smelled like a moist antique shop and it came up through the boards of the dock and lifted the back of my shirt ever so gently. The moon shone bright in the dark sky, illuminating silver eyes out on the water that blinked whenever I blinked. Whatever they were, they would disappear and be followed by a loud splash. I was terrified, but the me that was terrified was not the same boy sitting on the dock.
The perspective in the dream at this time bounced between two bodies. When the emotion of fear came to me, I inhabited a new body; one just below the surface of the black water. I could see the me on the dock, hunched and holding a fishing pole. My face was a blur of darkness and as I focused on it, it became more distorted. I tried to focus on the space next to where my face should be but it was still not coming in to focus. What I could see, from this submerged position, was that the pole didn't have any line running through the eyelets and that the body on the dock looked disfigured and growing more so by the second as if it were metamorphosing before my eyes. The vision snapped to a more remote and omniscient perspective looking down on what was taking place. I could see my spine protruded out far enough and then doubled back so that my chest touched the base of my pelvis; it looked as if I was being crushed under a great weight.
The omniscient view did not last very long and the twisted body on the dock was erased and a quiet house replaced the scenery. I wasn't alone in the house. There were two other people somewhere, but my body was restricted to the carpet in the living room. The sun was heavy in the window and the cool temperature of the carpet below my outstretched body was wonderful. I lay on my back looking up at the popcorn textured ceiling. My body was motionless and felt too heavy to move. It felt very similar to the time I smoked too much and felt a euphoric wave of electricity paralyze the desire to move even a single cell in my body.
During the euphoria, my high was interrupted by the growing presence of an uncomfortable heat and as I attempted to lift my head, I could smell smoke coming from another room but could not lift myself up to see where it was coming from. I began to panic and heard loud popping coming from the other room that was followed by the undeniable sound of sizzling and was instantly released from the prison on the floor and snapped to where the two others were, only to find them ablaze and dripping.
I woke from this dream in the middle of a small clearing in the forest across the street from my home. My feet were cold and the sun was still several hours from warming up the leather seats of the Buick. This is not the first time I've woken to a different scenery from what I fell asleep in and I know it won't be the last. I don't mind though, it keeps things interesting. It's how I found the half buried station wagon surrounded by undisturbed loam and hiding beneath the droopy arms of that massive Willow.
No comments:
Post a Comment